I Love Geraniums

This print hangs in my kitchen. Its my summer print. The frame holds 4 different prints and when the mood hits I bring forward the one for the season. This one usually makes its way to the glass if I have gone and gotten a few flowers for the front steps, which I did. Gives a quick change to my indoor surroundings.

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Two days ago we went to the nursery for a few plants, very few to make it simple enough to take care of them. Luscious, healthy plants bloomed in abundance, it was a site to behold. It is always a decision to be made as to what to get for my outdoor pots. As we walked through there was a cart being pulled by a woman which was filled with a few different type of flowers including about 4 each of red and white geraniums. It struck me how pretty they (the geraniums) were. I have always bought red when I did get geraniums but the white were just striking.

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Wandering around through the plants and flowers, peeking in the hothouses (I think there are about 8 of them) at more plants and flowers, so many flowers, so many plants. And then there it was, the last hothouse. It was a sea of red and white geraniums for at least the first half of the structure. It was magnificent. It was alive with color. There was no question.

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Care time is a consideration so my planting/potting is extremely small. Just enough to add a splash of color, enough to marvel at nature. With only 4 geraniums, 2 red and 2 white ... they are big plants, one fills a large pot ... two ornamental grass type plants and 4 coleus, oh I can't forget the 20 tomato plants, we went home.

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The house I lived in during high school had a white brick planter lining the sidewalk that led to our front door. Each spring/summer this planter held red geraniums. I remember seeing my mother plant these and thinking they were maybe an ok flower, nothing special. I actually didn't care too much for them, but I wasn't the plant person of the house and what does a teenage girl know about that stuff any way. A mere passing thought. Oddly though, one that lives on in a memory as I often can picture the moment I am talking about and clearly see the contrast of the white brick and the red geraniums. I'm sure that if I could plant that today I would see it as something all together different, something most beautiful. I now love geraniums.

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The spring of my 16th year found me in the hospital. Nine days I was there, having had emergency surgery on the third day of my stay. Initally, on that third morning, I was preparing to go home as the nurses had told me that after the doctor had been in I would be released. A story I will not go into now, but when the doctor arrived he took one look at me, spoke little to me and the next thing I knew I was being prepared for surgery. To this day 43 years later I have no idea what prompted the decision he made, however, his actions are the reason I am sitting here typing this today.

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Now where does this fit in with the later in life love for geraniums? I was released from the hospital on Memorial Day 1967. The hospital had a front porch which spanned the entire front of the hospital with huge white columns supporting it. Rocking chairs were scattered along it, still today you can find chairs and rocking chairs across the porch. But today there are not planters along the railing. Then there were and they were white and they held red geraniums. I remember stepping out on the porch and so very happy to be going home. And then I was just struct. The past nine days had seemed like a very, very long time, like a lifetime had passed. Stepping out into the air I was so conscious of being alive, of the fresh air, of my surroundings. I could hear the music in the distance of a marching band in a Memorial Day parade. And then the colors ... the geraniums were a red like I have never seen before or since, the grass also. I love the colors of nature, but never since have I ever seen anything so vivid as that red and green that day. It brought tears to my eyes. There really are not words to express what I saw, but in me it lives and always will.

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Over the years my fondness of geraniums has grown and as I got older they now remind me of that day when I went home. Having arrived home I walked around the back yard for a few minutes taking in that which was around me. The blue sky without a cloud, it was a picture perfect day from every angle. I was in awe. I was in awe with life itself. With certainty, I knew, God had walked with me and always would.

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I often think that heaven itself is the only place that could have colors that intense and that I was given a peek.

Happy Mother's Day

This pin was my mother's. Its now over 50 years old. Not worth anything, at least in monetary terms, but it does hold a treasure of memories. She wore it every Mother's Day for 45 years or more.

I gave it to her when I was maybe 9 or 10 years old, or possibly a bit younger. I know I was young enough as I blurted out to my mother on the way home that I had gotten a pin, unable to hold in my excitement. I didn't say what kind of pin, just a pin. Once home it would be wrapped and tucked away to be presented on Mother's Day.

I remember going shopping in a store called Fishman's with a few dollars in my pocket to shop for Mother's Day. It was like a 5 and 10 across the street from Woolworth's. I can still remember standing at the counter on the main floor of the store, the woman who worked there helping me. Does anyone remember Woolworth's? Fishman's and Woolworths, they were fun stores, homey. I miss them.

I thought this pin was the cat's meow! I guess Mom did too. She wore it for the last time 6 years ago at the age of 83. Its been with me since.

It will be passed on, certainly not because of any dollar value, but because it represents life, mine and hers.

Happy Mother's Day mom

with love

He is Risen

May the risen Lord renew our spirit today and always.

Spring is Sprung

I love spring, I love watching the earth awaken and the vibrant colors that are coming to life. Right now this season shows signs of the springs I remember as a child. The mornings were clear and crisp and bright with sunshine.

I'm reminded of walking to the bus stop and while waiting for the bus we played hopscotch. There were four or five of us, five if Jimmy came running down from the bus stop up the street. Each one of us always carried a piece of chalk, the first one to get to the stop would draw the board if it wasn't there from the day before, or darken the lines if it was still there.




As soon as we arrived, we would deposit our lunches and whatever else we were carrying that day to school on the ground by the street sign, get our stones and the game would begin! Let me tell you, it was serious business for this group. We calculated where to stand to toss our stone to each number; when we had made our way to to blocks 8, 9 and 10, a running jump was executed.

We played each year during fall and spring from about third to sixth grade; elementary school years. I guess by the time we began junior high we must have thought that we were too adult to play anymore,the game ceased and the road no longer boasted of children at play.

I seldom ever see a hopscotch board any more. I saw one last year, the first I had seen in many, many years, and as ours had been, very simply drawn with white chalk on the pavement. It made me smile.

The People We Meet

The third express lane declared 20 items or less and the line here consisted of two people, one just finishing checking out and another putting her 20 items up. Good enough for me with my two heads of romaine lettuce. I had actually just checked out not moments before when I realized that I had forgotten the romaine. Leaving my husband by the exit door I dashed toward produce, bagged my two romaines and took place back in line.

She, who was all of five feet, if that, slight of build, glanced in my direction and finished unloading her cart. I stood studying her (why? ... I don't know! just did.) Her hair was very grey, she was quite a bit older then I, simply dressed, beige car coat. The look of tired was there, the presence of strength showed, her movements were of gentleness.

She looked back at me and said to go ahead of her with my two items. Told her I was also going to get a pack of gum ... she smiled and stepped aside to let me pass. I paid for my items and thanked her again for the kindness. Again the small smile. I said that my husband was waiting for me and I knew he would appreciate her letting me go as well. She then said "my husband is home waiting for me. He is in bed sick." I said that I hoped that he would feel better soon. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I just knew what the response would be ... she lowered her head and shook no. I said I was so sorry, she responded with a slight nod. I told her that I would keep her in my prayers. And she nodded again and smiled, a smile that said more then any words could. The care of her husband is done with pure, pure love, I could see that. I had the thought to ask her for her first name but for some reason I purposely ignored the thought. I know that God knows who she is, who her husband is and maybe for some reason I am not to know her name.

What I do know is that I will pray for this woman and her husband. And my prayers will be heard, not because I am saying the prayers, but because prayer is being said.

For whatever reason, just for a moment, God put her in my path and a stirring took place in my heart. My meeting with this woman maybe was more for me. Who knows. God knows.

She will always be in my prayers. Will you join me?

The Treasured Memory of a First Best Friend

One of the blogs that I read is Nancy Lindemeyer's Journal ... the Nancy Lindemeyer from the original Victoria Magazine, oh how I loved that magazine!

Her post today involves her new book called My First Best Friend. You can hop on over to her site to take a look http://nancylindemeyer.blogspot.com/ Reading this today stirred a memory of my first best friend.

She lived up the street from me, a short distance, a walking distance, so of course we went to the same elementary school. The bus would pick her up first in the morning, the next stop was mine. We always sat together on the way to school and more often then not on the way home as well, reversed bus ride, I would be let off first to go home. Our friendship, that was 50 - 55 years ago.

She would at times stay over night at my house. She had a giggle that I can still hear if I quietly listen. We were silly little girls. My father would work the bingo game for our church once a month and when he did my mother and brother and I would go to bingo as well. Many times she would come along with us and spend the night afterwards. She won one night, oh my goodness, it was so, so exciting.

One spring morning ... I really remember the day, it was very beautiful, such a blue, blue sky ... I got on the bus and took my seat next to her on the right side of the bus about half way back. We usually sat there. As soon as I got settled in my seat she handed me this little white box. Never having received a gift before like this I didn't think too much of it until I opened the box. Inside was a silver band ring nestled in a small rectangle of cotten, the ring had an open cutwork design and was so shiny. It was the most beautiful thing I think I had ever seen. She told me it was a friendship ring. Can you imagine how special that was? And how special that is to even this day, almost a lifetime later.

That afternoon after school my mother took me out so that I could get her a ring from me. Giving her her ring the next day was at least anticlimatic to what I experienced but nevertheless we cemented our friendship.

During junior high school we had moved and somehow we had drifted. Many years after high school my mother had run into her mother. They made plans to meet, her daughter would be there with her children and I would come with my sons. We were both excited to see each other, it had been a long time. The day before we were to meet she had gotten the flu or something so that we had to postpone our visit but shortly we would plan a get together again.

A few weeks later I was driving to my mother's and along the way I had passed our school bus stops ... and for some reason I remembered the friendship ring, the blue sky, the bus ride that one spring morning and it made me smile and warmed my heart. She was such a great kid! I had often passed this way but for some reason the memory had chosen now to surface.

Shortly after this my mother had run into her mother. It seems that the week that I had gone to my mother's, the week that I had remembered that spring morning, she had had a massive heart attack. She had died at the age of 41. That was 18 years ago. It struck me that I hadn't thought of that spring morning, of those two little girls, until that week and thinking that we would see each other again shortly.

I wrote to her mother, telling her of the memory that my heart held. I also told her that knowing the type of child she had been I also knew the type of adult she would have grown to be and that I could not begin to imagine their heartache.

She was my first best friend. Its more then a good memory, it was a special time of life. I can imagine now that she has and continues to fill heaven with her laughter and giggles.

Thank you for being my first best friend. God bless you.

Finding Happiness

Simply put, sometimes it just takes work. Having come this far, and tripped, stumbled, and flat out fallen more times that one can count, you finally see the pattern forming which we call life and all that which we take for granted. "All that" is the key to happiness.

Happiness, like love .... (I had written earlier - Love cannot be boxed, wrapped in paper or adorned with bows, glitz and glitter. It stands unashamedly unwrapped, uncovered ... bare and bold. To receive it, there is no greater gift. It is the ultimate. -glor) ... cannot be bought, sold, inherited, demanded or prescribed. When you think about it, happiness unlike love cannot be given, but it can be accepted; it must be accepted to be. Think about it.

to be continued ...

Twenty Five Years Ago

...the first words I heard upon awakening from anethesia. An 8 lb. 13 oz. bundle of blue. Actually I was disappointed at the weight as I had been sure that this child had to be at least 15 pounds, maybe 20, so much had I gained, so uncomfortable had I been. But 8 lb. 13 oz., ... so the rest was really me, well after the water weight and they told me there was a lot of that! After a short induced labor a c-section was performed and thank God as the cord was wrapped around his neck. Again we had been given a miracle. His brother, five months shy of his ninth birthday, was our first miracle, a premie and an amazing story for his birthday!

Three more tries to get to today, tonight, 25 years ago ... he was born at 7:55pm; I didn't get to see him until the next morning. Even with sedation it had been a difficult birth and night and with IV's in both arms I wasn't able to hold him until later the next morning but when I did I was in total awe. Again, all I could say was thank you God, thank you God. For the first time full term had been achieved. For the first time I would go home with a baby in my arms.

And here, now, 25 years later, how did we get here so fast? I smile, I'm still in awe, I still marvel at the young men that are our sons. I think I always will.

Color my world

Three of us (myself and two of my ten) started taking drawing and now watercolor painting lessons (an item from my 60th and forward list). Been at it now about 6 months although I am still quite the novice. Actually if there was something before novice I think I would have that hands down! We started with the watercolor paints two months ago and with time off for the holidays we have only had about three classes for this medium. Our classes are every other week with the week in between we meet at one of our homes to practice the instruction of the last class, this also is our third practice session.

Two of us arrive this morning at her house ... a table had been painstakening set up with props for the drawing and watercoloring. Much thought and love was put into this array of subjects with the most beautiful music in the background, meditative. A mouth watering selection of eats were at hand with wonderful cups of vanilla flavored coffee. It was delectable.

We sketch out the subject(s), start to mix the paints, conversation slows and each one of us drifts into the peaceful serenity called watercolor painting. For a few hours there are no tightened muscles, no problem thoughts, anything of tension seems to dissipate.

It has been a good lesson, a very good lesson learned. Is it something I would frame, absolutely not but it will be signed, dated and treasured as I look at what I have created and count my blessings. How many in this world have had the morning that I experienced. I come away thinking of what is going on around me ... in my own surroundings the schools have been cancelled, they've called it a riot, a gang fight. A life has been taken, others severely injured. In Haiti an earth quake has claimed thousands upon thousands of lives and left many victims of pain and suffering ... we must pray. Devastation is everywhere.

I pray for all and I thank God for the color of my world.

Epiphany

The star burned like a flame, pointing the way to God,the King of Kings; the wise men saw the sign and brought their gifts in homage to their great King.

The Lord gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding. He reveals what is deep and hidden; all light has its source in him.

New Year's Eve

January 1, 2010
We attended mass tonight (vigil mass) as tomorrow, for us, is a holy day; Mary, Mother of God. I always remember years past being at mass on New Year's Eve at close to midnight. During the mass the New Year would arrive. It seemed like such a wonderful way to welcome in the New Year with the first meal of the year being shared with our Lord. One year in particular always comes to mind. A priest friend had been assigned to our parish the year he was ordained. That New Year's Eve he held midnight mass, a small gathering, about 50 people were there. The church candles were lit and the only other lights were from the strings of little white lights woven through the garland that was strung along the sides of the church and the Christmas trees on the altar and at the creche. And there, among the quiet peace, in the soft light, with Jesus we passed into the New Year. He walked among us and you knew it. That evening was one of the most profound moments of my life.

May your new year be abundantly blessed. I wish you all the quiet joy of His presence and love today and always.

The miracle

of life. Arrived to pick up my friend this morning to find out that she had just spoken with her daughter and the "cramps" were 2 to 3 to 5 minutes apart. This will be her third grandchild, a baby boy, a beautiful baby boy. And I saw him, his face ... for on her laptop was the sonogram picture of last Friday. His face so very clear, so very perfect and beautiful. I find it so incredible that there in front of me was a picture of this child that has not yet been born. Amazing! Needless to say, we cancelled the day and the joy of the wait has begun.

The older I get the more astounded I become at creation, at birth. It often leaves me speechless. Its one of those things that I have trouble putting words to. What a gift.

My friend ... she was glowing, giggling, smiling large. It was a delight to watch her, to be near her, to share a few moments of the wonderment of life. So appropriate for this time of year, no? Sometime today, tonight a new little life will be given to the world; praise be to God.

12/30 addendum ... looks like there could be a New Year's baby. Although we thought for sure he would make his appearance the day before yesterday, it wasn't time. And so we wait in great anticipation and excitement.

A Christmas Prayer

Almighty God and
Father of Light,
a child is born for us,
and a son is given to us.
Your Eternal Word
leaped down from heaven
in the silent watches of the night,
and now your Church
is filled with wonder
at the nearness of her God.
Open our hearts to receive His life
and increase our vision
with the rising of dawn,
that our lives may be filled
with His glory and His peace
forever and ever.
Amen.
The Liturgy of the Hours

Merry Christmas